The Light At Last
by Lou-deadfroggy
Summary: Whilst the Fellowship of the Ring journeyed towards Mordor, other players had a hand in the events of the War of the Ring. In the Havens the children of Mithrandir prepare to defend their home, the Lords of Imladris guard the mountains and say farewell to their brightest jewel and in the east the Woodland Elves watch the shadows lengthen.
1. A Meeting on the Road

Alsea

It was a quaint place, she thought. Little brooks running through hillocks an everywhere things growing, no harsh stone or high walls, just small houses with pretty curtains and round doors. Unexciting, but sweet.

The road was darker than it had been, overgrown and little used. Greater traffic she had seen on roads coming from the north but in the Shire the routes out into the world were being closed off. When shadows came homely folk shut their doors. Alsea could not blame them.

She sat under an oak tree, never moving as she melted into the shadows. From the noisy building along the road intoxicated hobbits stumbled, calling good night to each other. She found their speech hard to follow, slurred by drink and twisted by accents she had not often heard. They did not look for a grey shape beneath the trees, so they did not see her sitting there, her bright hair covered and naught but her eyes glinting if one were to search for them.

The trail from the tavern had stopped and all were home by the time the rider came. When the first echoes of hoof beats caught at her ears she stood. The tree shielded her so that she remained hidden until the rider was almost level and she was sure of their identity. Only then did she step out onto the bank and let the moonlight reveal her.

"Ada," she called. At once the horses halted, pulled sharply in as the rider turned to look at her. Blue eyes squinted as he smiled at her.

"Alsea. What a pleasant surprise this is. Returning from sweet Elladan?" Olórin dismounted and cupped her cheek with his hand. "The roads are getting dangerous, child. You would do well to stay in one place."

"I take my lead from the one they call a Pilgrim, he who never stays for long." She was glad to make him laugh. In the short years since she had last seen him he had grown older, worn thin by the troubles of the world. Even his eyes were turning grey and tired.

"What bird told you I would pass this way?" They moved off the road, the horse wandering towards the little brook behind the tree.

"Elrond knew you had business in the south, his scouts saw you pass the Bruinen. I travel faster than you, Ada. It seemed to me you should not travel home without company." At that his sighed, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"I do not travel to Mithlond. It is here that I made for. There is..." He gestured to the lighted round windows littering the large hill above them. "A hobbit here I must see. Strange things are happening, Alsea. But you go home, keep yourself and your brother safely tucked away."

"Safe from Mordor? I know the shadows grow long there now. Surely here in the west we are not threatened? There is half the world between Eriador and Mordor." Elrond's House spoke of nothing else. Her uncles prepared themselves for yet another war. Even Círdan made ready his fleets as if the shadow of Sauron could reach them again and the realms of Men, Lórien and the Misty Mountains did not stand in his way.

"Yes, from Mordor, and other places if my suspicions are correct." He looked around them as if she would have let someone follow them. "The Ring of Power has been found." Alsea could do nothing but gasp. Into legend the Ring had passed, although she knew her father had not given up on it. The weapon that had wrought such destruction was found, as it was in their darkest dreams. A fear realised at last. The shadows wrapped themselves a little tighter around the corners of her vision. The Ring was a nightmare from her childhood, one that did not have a happy ending.

"Where?"

"Here in the Shire. Bilbo found it in Gollum's cave, when Thorin Oakenshield's company passed that way. Oh but it took me too long to see it." Alsea looked again at the house in the hill.

"The Enemy knows," she murmured, her voice small and frightened. "Where do you mean to hide it? Ada, if we were to take it with us now, we could cast it into the sea, off the isles, as far as Círdan's mariners dare to go. No one would find it at the gates to the West Road." It could not be found, every inch of her was repeating that with fury. Better a long and watchful peace than another war.

"What is cast into the sea can still come to shore," Olórin said quietly. "No, I shall confirm my suspicions, although I do not doubt I am right. Then I will go to Isengard. Curunír will know what to do."

"Ada... When we thought it was lost in the Anduin, carried to the sea then all was well. Why can we not cast it away, for certain this time? Is that not what Saruman will advise?"

"I do not know. I do not trust the sea to keep it hidden. Whatever we do the Ring must leave the Shire. It must go somewhere we can protect it whilst we decide what course to take." She watched him pace, his hands moving in an agitated fashion. After a moment he pulled out his pipe and used it to distract himself until he was once again the calm wise wizard the world knew, rather than an anxious old man.

"What would you have me do? Send me with a message to Círdan, or back to Imladris I do not mind."

"Ah, it is a good thing you are here. I am pleased to have seen you, before all of this starts." He sighed, blowing a smoke ring around her head so that she had a silver halo for a fleeting instant. "Go to Círdan. Tell him what I suspect, that the Ring of Power has been found and the Wise will be consulted. Ask him to send us his opinion. Then stay there, iel nîn. Stay safe." There was a haunted note to his voice, a sort of desperation.

"I must do as my lord Círdan commands, Ada. Gandir and I are his captains now, if it comes to war we will have no choice but to fight for him." Olórin watched her for a long time, his eyes sad within their nests of beard and eyebrow. She did not mean to make him worry, after all he had lost to Sauron he did not need the prospect of losing his children in a second war.

"One day you will not follow orders," he said quietly, putting his pipe away. "One day you are going to have enough of lords and orders."

"Why does that make you sound sorrowful?" Gently she stopped him from mounting his horse. He could leave others with questions burning on their lips but she would not let him leave her in that fashion.

"Because I knew two other elves who all at once stopped listening to orders. Both are now buried on the road to Mordor. Now go and warn Círdan. Then pray the war never reaches Lindon." She watched him turn his horse back into the road. "Your uncles will keep Imladris safe. Stay by the sea, do not go seeking trouble."

"The same goes for you, Ada. You will come to us again, before the darkness arrives?"

"I will try." Her fears were not allayed by his words. It could be that her father was riding off to a council, to the first in a series of deliberations over campaigns and strategies. Or he could have left her standing beneath an oak tree as he rode off to another war. Despite not feeling the chill Alsea shivered.

It was only once the grey cloaked figure had been welcomed inside the warmly lit hole that she slipped away through the trees, her feet padding silently over the undergrowth. She had no desire to arrive in Mithlond in the company of fading travellers heading towards the ships, so she stayed off the road. The trees murmured as she passed. They were strangely loud, they always had been. In the Shire the trees were awake and that made her smile briefly as she went on her way west.

The rain lashed at her hood as she knocked on Galdor's widow. She was sodden and the cold was beginning to make her skin prickle uncomfortably from days in the downpour. It seemed as if the clouds had followed her to the coast and left the rest of the world alone.

"Alsea!" Gandir pulled the window open and she slipped through, making an instant puddle on the floor. Galdor had decided long ago that the street level window was more useful than his front door and so would have to live with the consequences of having visitors appear in his studio not his hallway.

"Why are you bringing half the bay in with you?" Galdor turned to lean against the back of his chair. "Do try and keep the weather outside." His teasing she could have done without but the warm fire and the supper sitting on the table were welcome sights indeed. She thought nothing of taking what should have been Galdor's plate.

"We were not expecting you to return so soon, did you not wish to spend the summer in Imladris?" Gandir asked as she ate. "They are expecting a warmer time than we are."

"I came back early to meet Ada on the road. He sent me on with ill tidings."

"Tidings he cannot bring himself? Why, what has happened?"

"It does not bear telling twice." Alsea sighed and pushed her plate away.

"Then let us find Círdan and you can tell us." Whilst she had been eating Galdor had fetched two cloaks, putting one around Gandir's shoulders. "You have come far in the rain, and quickly too judging by your look. Come and tell Círdan your news then rest."

The rain had not let up, nor did the dark clouds show any signs of doing so. The sea lapped at the quay, wetting the stones and making them treacherous.

"Why does Ada not come here?" Gandir asked over the crash of the waves.

"He has business in the Shire. Wait a moment, brother, and then you will understand." Galdor held the Ship House door open for them. Inside there was little warmth for the house looked directly out over the river and the bay. Above the bridge the balcony was deserted, the river ran too fast in the rain to be safe for the ships. Alsea took the stairs two at a time until they had reached the door to Círdan's apartments.

"Come," the Shipwright called once she knocked. "I wondered who it was running through the rain in such haste." Círdan spoke slowly, a deep voice rumbling from the depths of his beard and he did not rise from his desk. "What deeds bring you to my door mere moments after your arrival home, Alsea?" They had long since given up wondering how he could know such things between the Watch's reports.

"Upon the road I met with my father and was sent on with ill news." Galdor had taken their cloaks and at a movement of Círdan's hand both he and Gandir sat.

"Then speak, if Mithrandir cannot spare the time to return here I doubt we can tarry either." The Shipwright leaned back, setting his quill aside and folding his hands together.

"The Ring of Power has been found."

Even the storm appeared to grow still at her words. Then Gandir gasps and turned to Galdor, who placed a gentle hand on his arm and stared in shock at the rug. Even Círdan, for all his wisdom, paused.

"Where?" Suddenly he was on his feet, moving around the desk in a spur of energy.

"In the Shire, Ada's little hobbit found it on the road to Erebor. He is there now, to confirm his suspicions." Olórin could be flustered and that made her uneasy, to see Círdan restless and on the verge of panic turned Alsea's gut to lead.

"It was lost," Gandir said slowly. "At Gladden Fields..."

"Its history is a tale for another time," Círdan snapped dismissively. He turned to look at the darkness beyond long window, the storm lashing at the port. "Olórin will not entrust it to the sea, or else he would have come at once."

"He means to take it before the Council, after seeking Curunír's advice. I asked him to bring it here but he refused to cast it into the ocean, even beyond the isles."

"Mithrandir will not solve this in haste," Galdor murmured, still frowning at the rug. "A great many Councils will he call before taking action, such is his way."

"There is not time for that." It seemed to Alsea that she and Gandir might as well have not been present for Círdan looked only to Galdor.

"There is time yet, if Lórien and Mirkwood mobilise..."

"Even all the realms of the Eldar could not now stand against the Shadow," Círdan sighed. Slowly, deep in thought, he returned to his desk. "We have not the power now." Finally he turned back to Alsea. "Is there aught else?"

"Only that he bids you send your counsel." The Shipwright nodded solemnly. "He as good as ordered me to remain behind Mithlond's walls, he thinks it will come to war."

"We are at war," Galdor told her.

"Enough." Galdor finally looked up at Círdan and the old elf sighed deeply. "The storm will blow over by morning. Let me think on this for a night at least. Galdor, if you would stay a moment?"

Out in the corridor Gandir passed Alsea her cloak.

"Can you guess what might happen?" he asked her in a hushed whisper, barely audible over the howl of the storm.

"A war? Ada seems to think it will come to that. I know Mirkwood and Gondor fight already, although that is small compared to a war that could reach us. For now I hope there will only be councils and a great toing and froing between the Wise."

"Círdan has been building more ships." Alsea scowled beneath her hood. It was not right to prepare to flee into the West at such a time. Not when they still had so much to fight for.

"We had better start building war galleys," she muttered and lengthened her steps to bring her into the warmth of Galdor's house all the sooner. Gandir trotted behind her with a worried scowl.


	2. Horns in the Forest

Chapter Two

Legolas

Moonlight shone down onto the path, beams falling from heights almost impossible to see, weaving through branches and trunks and rock until it hit the marble flagstones. It had a sickly quality, too pale, too faint as clouds above masked its full glow. There was no way of knowing how far beneath the ground the path was, or even if it was designed as a corridor or a street. Great pillars that may have been trunks extended either side and doorways, arches, windows of coloured glass broke up the solid shapes. He walked along with little purpose, half dreaming half examining every inch of his home as if it was new to him. Certainly it was not with an artist's eye that he looked, or even he was ashamed to say that of a strategist. It was with some sort of tired wonder and a superficial curiosity. It was possible to walk through the Halls and not see them, to look only for the right door and pass by the impossibility of the place.

After an hour of wandering he turned at last, climbing upwards between great roots and hidden courtyards. Some had a lone scholar reading peacefully on a bench carved with ivy, others a full company performing drill in heavy armour. In the moonlight even their mail was dull, matte, cloaked in the shadows of the forest. When at last he stood on the platform built around a trunk rather than beneath it, he began to pay more attention to where he was going. The first door was firmly shut, perhaps locked he could not say. He did not wish to try it in case it opened and he was faced with an empty room, where once there had been light and life. Circling around the tree in a great arc he passed stairwells leading upwards. Through what had once been a garden filled with wooden horses and tiny archery butts was now a square of lavender and wild flowers. He could only guess that the couple who looked out onto it preferred it less well-kept and wild.

His brother's door was open, firelight seeped from beyond accompanied by the soft sound of a lute. He tapped the wood gently before stepping inside.

"I wondered how long it would take," Matlar murmured, barely turning in his window seat, one leg on the sill as he rested the lute against his knee. There was a soft knowing smile on his face. Without announcing his intentions, he had been expected to join them. Legolas took up his place against the wall, leaning back so that the room's other occupants were in his sight. Where two brothers were already gathered, it could be expected that a third would join them, at the very least. Feuil sat on the floor, his wife Rhosiel on the foot rest in front of him. Between them a chessboard was scattered with pieces.

"All is quiet," said Legolas. Certainly there was no storm brewing in their father's quarters that he could sense.

"Too quiet." Rhosiel held his gaze with dark eyes, even in Matlar's sitting room she was wary. The forest around the Halls stirred with malice and it seeped into their fortress as easily as the river water ran through their cellars.

"I am glad for a little quiet," Feuil announced. Their game all but abandoned, he turned to face his brother. "Are you not pleased we have a little respite? A few days when you can stay here and rest?"

"Things never stay quiet for long," answered Legolas. His hip felt bare without a knife belted on, although he could hardly have wandered armed into his brother's rooms. Matlar went back to plucking out a simple melody, too minor to be comforting.

"Have you heard anything?" With a sigh Legolas shook his head, causing Rhosiel to let her face slip into a disappointed frown. He was not sure what else she expected, any messengers were common knowledge and he was not in the habit of trying to send secret letters through darkened roads. She was holding out for some message that was not vetted by the King first, something more likely to tell them what was happening to lands beyond their concern.

They lapsed into silence, Legolas watching the chess game. Or rather he stared absently at the detailed pieces, the cracks and ivy etched onto the rooks, the flowing man of the horseman's steed and always the eyes of the councillors, still standing either side of Rhosiel's king and queen, seemed to follow him. The queens faced each other, one blonde in white mail with a cold face, the other with hair the shade of blood and a tiny brass breastplate. He wanted them to talk, to make something of what little peace they could get.

Matlar was looking wistfully out of the arched window, leaning against the carved swallows of the column and more focused on the melancholy tune he was plucking out of the lute than on his brothers. Orophin had been ordered to return to Lórien by the Lady Galadriel who was drawing up her forces to protect her borders. That included the fourth Prince of Mirkwood's husband, as the third March warden. Although they had little time to brood, the abundance of open books and level of clutter that had sprung up in Matlar's room suggested he was managing to find time to contemplate his loneliness.

Feuil lost his red queen suddenly and let out an annoyed sigh.

"It is only because Matlar always-" Rhosiel was cut off suddenly by the sound of horns from far below on the forest floor. For half a heartbeat they froze. An attack, a call for all the guard to form up behind the gates.

Their hesitation was over before the notes had even faded. Legolas stood up straight and bounded in long strides towards the door, Rhosiel was on her feet and behind him like a second shadow. Matlar took a moment longer to lay down his lute and pull Feuil up.

As he passed through the garden his thoughts went to his daughters, woken from their sleep by the sounds of war again. They had the sense to stay where they were but unless someone took the time to reassure them all was well they would look out in fear, waiting for news.

The guard was already formed in the courtyard directly behind the gates, officers waiting for orders.

"Feuil, Matlar stay here. Rhosiel, with me." Legolas strode off towards the council chamber, his good-sister at his heels. Matlar would find out what had happened by other means and Feuil would be kept out of any storm brewing around the King.

The round room looked more like a clearing among the saplings, hardly the grand chamber reserved for non-existent guests. A trail of wet puddles marked the way into the middle and there stood Calen, Captain of the Forest Guard. His cloak was shedding what appeared to be half the river and he still had his head bowed.

The King did not face those gathered there, staring at the wall. Legolas knew it was a mark of fury but also that Thranduil was planning, preferring to give out orders rather than anger on that occasion. Flanking him were Soliel and Cedwar, the upper echelons of his council. Conspicuous by their absence neither of Thranduil's generals stood present.

"Legolas will go north, Rhosiel east." Without context the King's proclamation made little sense. "Go as far as the borders then return." Thranduil turned, his face calm as if nothing were amiss. He spoke as if Calen were invisible between him and his children. "Search the surrounding forest. Ensure there is nothing to be found there that has slipped through our nets." Even oblivious to what had happened Legolas inwardly winced at the King's tone. Calen was not riding high in favour. "Dismissed." Soliel fell into step beside the King as he marched forth, Cedwar hesitating only a moment to turn to Legolas and Rhosiel. Even then they did not stop, heading straight to the armoury.

"The walls have been attacked. The company is small, from what we can gather. Valion is holding the southern gate against them." Legolas clenched his jaw, pulling his quiver bow into place. For a company to have reached their walls meant their border garrisons had been overpowered and no message had arrived to warn the Halls. Their defences had been breached, by apparently an insignificant force. That was a worry best left until after the fighting.

"Where are Laurina and the Palace Guard?" asked Legolas. Valion's absence was now accounted for but the second general was missing.

"At the river, attempting to flank the orcs." That was enough, to know that Rhosiel would not be defending their eastern walls entirely alone.

Legolas left them at the Gates. Rhosiel's company peeled off to the east and disappeared between the trees. Whilst Valion and the King went straight to fend off those they knew were there he was to circle around and make sure there was no second company.

The trees stirred, wary by the sounds of steel on steel and of foul cries. They were old and battle-hardened, the same as the warriors who flitted between them on silent feet. North Legolas led his company, at the forefront with only one quick-footed scout before him. One arrow was in his hand, ready to be knocked and loosened in half a heartbeat.

They heard nothing but the far off scampering of a doe that crossed their line of sight in blind terror. It did not even sense them, instead making straight for the darkness of the forest and the safety away from the noise.

Legolas held out an arm, pointing away to the left. With a nod his lieutenant broke away with half of their company and they continued parallel to each other towards the northern perimeter. The distant sounds of fighting faded away and were not replaced by the heavy breathing or marching feet of orcs.

Their border, or rather what was now called a border but should have been the perimeter of the lands directly protected by the Halls, was less than half a day away and they travelled quickly, spread out to look for tracks. Once it would have taken a company days to reach the edges of the realm, all the forest safely guarded and tamed even far from Amon Lanc. Once Legolas had walked under the trees alone without fearing for his life. Only in the Palace gardens could he manage that now.

"Halt! Who goes there?" The voice of a sentry came from the lower branches of a tree. There was no path or no natural boundary between their lands the woods beyond, except the King's decisions.

"Legolas Thranduilion," he replied and waited. Two guards in green cloaks sprang down from the eaves, bowing their heads briefly. "The Halls were attacked from the south. We are ensuring no second force has come. What have you seen?"

"Nothing, my Prince. The forest is quiet. Nothing has come through." The sentry was on the defensive, facing him defiantly. The border guards had little time for those they protected, especially when those safely in the Halls began to question them.

"Something broke through without us seeing," Legolas muttered but was already turning. "Uria?" His lieutenant had returned with her half of the company.

"It seems they came from the south only."

"Then back." If there were more coming from the south than had been estimated, the King would need every company returned before things could go wrong. It would not be the first time they had been encircled by foes, sending out Legolas and Rhosiel's small companies was worth the warning they could give. It still did not stop them all returning with as much haste as they could muster, even as the first rays of dawn began to hit the trunks above them, sparsely hitting the forest floor below.

Rhosiel met him at the Gate. The ugly sounds of butchery had ceased, only the smoke from a foul smelling bonfire indicated what had happened.

"They were few," she told him. "They are dead. The King awaits you." Legolas felt the beginnings of a weary ache in his legs, they had covered no small distance that night and tension stole yet more energy. He gestured to Uria to dismiss the company, handing her his quiver.

"You found nothing." Rhosiel shook her head, pushing back reddish blond braids as they began to separate, having been put up in haste hours before. Then it seemed that despite the worrying breach in their southern defences, all was well.

"The creature, Gollum, is gone." Her hand on the door to the King's solar, not the council chamber, she paused. "His guards were slain." There would be no more action taken that day, the King had already given out his orders. Instead they were going somewhere more private, to discuss their failure to keep Aragorn's captive secure. Legolas was ashamed that they had not managed to keep their word to Estel, although the ranger would never hold it against them he could not help but feel guilt at having wasted his friend's efforts.

"Ada!" Legolas did not have time to mask his surprise as a tiny bundle hit his stomach, twig like arms wrapping themselves around him.

"Lilleila?" The solar was too warm after hours of traversing the forest, and had the sickly sweet smell of march pane. One honey brown head looked up at him with wide grey eyes and a trace of jam around her mouth.

"Grandfather let us sit in here to wait for you, once the fighting stopped." Indeed her sister was seated next to Thranduil, a map stretched out on the floor between them. His father did not rise, nor even look at the arrivals. Xanthi rose and for a moment let a wide grin show then bit it down for decorum's sake. They had been afraid, two little children in a vast fortress with no one to tell them what was happening. Thranduil showed a soft streak when it came to the two elflings it seemed, one Legolas could only faintly remember.

"The little creature escaped," Xanthi told him with some quiet regret. With Thranduil's nod of approval Legolas sat next to the map, cross legged with Lilleila in his lap.

"This could not have been a coincidence," Rhosiel said from the chaise. Legolas agreed, for the Halls to be attacked just as Gollum was let out to taste the air on the same walls as he was kept struck him as a little too convenient for any force that wanted Gollum free.

"The others are still searching the forest. We shall learn what evil is behind this." Thranduil moved the tiny figure of an archer across the map to Doriath, almost absently.

"Do you want some march pane, Ada?" Lilleila asked him, almost hitting him in the face with a piece as she lifted it up.

"Hannon le, although you should not eat much more. I warrant you might be sick." He took the somewhat sticky piece. "Mithrandir should be told that his prisoner has escaped." At that his father stiffened and looked away.

"Laurina went to track Gollum..." Xanthi did not sound hopeful.

"Enough," said the King sternly. Silence reigned. Legolas and Lilleila engaged in a quiet one handed battle where she attempted to put more jams covered sweet pastry in her mouth and he did his best to limit it. Thranduil simply watched as Xanthi moved a tiny horse and cart around the map in her own little game.

Legolas allowed himself to relax a little, although his standing with his father was unclear the whole scene had enough tranquillity to suggest there was not going to be a storm just yet. They had lost Gollum and the King was angry, yet he was saving it for those he deemed at fault and for once that was not his middle son.

"Ada," Lilleila whispered at last. "Will Naneth come back in time for midsummer? I want to show her the flower chains I made." The flowers would not keep for long and her mother wandered far away on other people's orders.

"I doubt it." It pained him to see her face fall. "Perhaps in the winter she will return." Or the next winter, or the next. It was impossible to know.

A knock at the door broke whatever little serenity they had built.

"Laurina asks for permission to search beyond our borders." Soliel's jaw was set hard and she exuded a sense of annoyance at the world.

"Follow the creature until she finds it." At that Thranduil rose, his robe knocking one of Xanthi's carefully lines up figures. For a moment she looked up at him in annoyance then remembered herself and set about putting them back in line.

"Legolas, Rhosiel." Legolas placed Lilleila on the floor beside her sister.

"Make sure she does not eat anymore sweet things," he told Xanthi then turned a deaf ear to his youngest's protests.

"We are not going to hear the end of this," whispered Rhosiel in the corridor. "Not now that Laurina has failed to find the creature in our lands." Whilst there had been hope that Gollum would not travel far and would be easily found the King was willing to stay his hand. Once their captive was lost and they had to face Mithrandir and the Noldor with news of their failure he would not be so benevolent.

"She may yet find him." Even to his own ears that was a hollow hope.


End file.
